Untitled
by peskychesk
Summary: Merlin? As a girl? Our take on what the idiocies which might have happened if Merlin had been born a girl. Because, let's face it, becoming a manservant is just not an option.
1. Untitled

**Written in collusion with ****Vegetables-will-have-their-revenge (minus the hyphens)**.

**To make a long story short, we were discussing what would happen if Merlin had come to Camelot and saved Arthur's life as a girl, largely with frustration with the number of stories which seem to think that it would be perfectly feasible for a girl to undertake a manservant's job. Needless to say, crack! occurred. Currently a One-Shot. We hope you enjoy reading it even a portion of the amount we enjoyed writing it :D  
**

**Disclaimer: Neither of us own Merlin. Much to our dismay.  
**

* * *

As Merlin lay on the cold stone floor with the Prince's lean, muscular body pressed against every contour of her own feminine form, she could not help but recall the previous few moments with alarming clarity. Watching the knife spin end over end towards him, she could not help but move instinctively to wrench him from the imminent clutches of death. She could have never dreamed that he would twist mid fall to fulfil his role as a misogynistic man and protect the delicate flower of a woman from the small bruise the meeting with the floor would incur.

Now, feeling his warm breath against the nape of her neck, she couldn't help the rolling of her stomach or the tremors of disgust which wracked her frame. If she had known her actions would lead to her being so intimately entwined with so obnoxious a prat, she would never have bothered to save him in the first place. And the worst thing was she was certain his interpretation of her actions and expressions would be entirely wrong and, worse, wholly inappropriate.

A sigh of relief reverberated in her ear as the prince's slow brain finally caught up with events and deduced he was actually still alive, sans knife. This, coupled with the slight murmurings beginning to erupt from around the cavernous chamber, sent a jolt of horror through the young woman's mind as she abruptly realised that she was clutched in what looked like a passionate (and somewhat drawn out) embrace...

With the prince...

In front of the entire court...

And said prince's father...

...who also happened to be the king of, quite possibly, the most prominent nation of all.

…

…

…

...oops...

Within a split second of her thoughts amassing at this conclusion, Merlin had, rather ungracefully it must be said, thrown the prince off her and scrabbled backwards a good two metres. Leaping to her feet, her eyes swept the hall anxiously before engaging in a battle of bemusement with Gaius. The battle came to a close only when her mentor's eyes skittered to the side and widened comically. Or it would have been comical had Merlin not know on whom they had settled. The crashing of a chair had her pirouetting daintily to face her seemingly rather bewildered monarch. His confusion, she believed, must in fact only be a mere cover for his mounting fury, which, she was sure, would be descending upon her at the slightest of triggers.

The king strode towards the unfortunate youths. In a moment of blind panic, Merlin considered whether her singing voice would be adequate enough to reproduce the now deceased witch's song, and escape while, once again, the whole hall slept unawares.

"You saved my boy's life. A debt must be repaid." Though his voice was filled with gratitude, there was an undeniably begrudging air accompanying the words, which left Merlin hurrying to deny his offer.

"Ah well-"

"Don't be so modest. You shall be rewarded."

Rather put out at being interrupted, and with a continuation of the offer she had tried to rebuff, Merlin tried once again to politely, yet firmly, decline the proposition, "No honestly you don't have to your highness."

"No absolutely. This merits something quite special."

"Well-"

"You shall be awarded a position in the royal household. You shall be Prince Arthur's manservant."

There was a deafening silence in the hall. Merlin was acutely aware of Arthur's gaze straying slightly south, coming to rest briefly on a certain visual aspect of the female anatomy which was considered generally impolite to gawk at. Especially in public. And a rule which applied even more so given the current company, not to mention the social status of the gawker in question. Merlin found herself rather hard put to restrain herself from socking him in the face.

"Father?" Arthur queried, his eyebrow rising slightly. "You do realise..." he trailed off, coughing to hide the faint blush tinting his cheeks. " You do realise, umm I mean, you are aware-err, that the... position proposed is..." He paused steeling himself, before looking his father directly in the eye and blurting out, in a single breath, "Father I'm not really sure that position is entirely appropriate."

Uther looked somewhat puzzled, before turning to allow his gaze to rove over the form of his son's saviour. Merlin could have sworn he gulped, and she dearly hoped she had only imagined the small look of appreciation in his eyes.

"Ah. I see what you mean." So Merlin _hadn't _imagined it then. "Perhaps 'maidservant' would be a more fitting title?"

Arthur looked somewhat flustered. Leaning forward he practically hissed, "Father I am _not_ having her attend-serving, I, I mean...Father no. Just, no. Father you are aware of what that job entails?"

An unladylike snort drew Merlin's attention towards the farther end of the high table, where the Lady Morgana was attempting to muffle her sounds of amusement. In trying to restrain her own glare, Merlin found herself strangely grateful when Arthur obliged on both their behalves.

"Well," spluttered Uther, turning to include the court at large, "What title would you suggest?"

The room burst forth in a flurry of ideas, but many were influenced by the events during and immediately following the prince's saving. As the suggestions escalated Arthur reddened still further, and even Merlin felt her cheeks heat a little.

"She can be Arthur's Bolster!"

"She'll have to wake him up in the morning, so how about his Getter-Upper?"

"Royal Dresser!"

"She can be his Armour Polisher!"

"Have her be the Prince's Sword Cleaner!"

With each new suggestion the men of the court began to laugh, and as it continued their laughter increased until guffaws were echoing off the chamber walls. While this went on, Merlin turned toward the king (who was trying, and failing dismally, to remain unimpressed with his men's antics), and trying to remain polite.

"To be perfectly honest sire, I would much prefer to be _un_titled."

A harsh voice cried out from across the room, "So you'd do it all for free then?"

Another added "She doesn't want the job Arthur! Your charm must be dulling." Arthur looked indignant at the jibe.

"Enough!" commanded Uther, before this new onslaught of outcries could manifest in full. Sighing, he turned to Merlin and asked tiredly, "How about a cash reward?"

Sometime later, sitting in her small room, Merlin tried in vain to block the earlier humiliation from her mind. The five fat gold coins hidden in the compartment beneath the floorboard did little to assuage her turmoil, and so instead she turned her mind to something else. Unfortunately all that came to mind was the previous day's conversation with the dragon. She snorted. Shared destiny indeed. And _change_ Arthur? That idiot? Was that even possible? The overgrown lizard must have been in the dark too long. Or maybe he'd confused her with a male Merlin somewhere. She was sure _someone_ else, somewhere, had to share her name. Whoever that was, she felt sorry for them. Content with this, she snuggled under her blanket and fell asleep, happy in the knowledge that she would never have to deal with Arthur again.

* * *

**So there you have it. What do you think? This was originally intended to be a one-shot, but we both agree that there seems to be plenty of space to manoeuvre around that. If you think it should be continued, please let us know.**


	2. A Valiant effort Part one (of many)

**WE'RE BACK! Did you miss us? Bet you thought we'd given up on you. We've spent but a week in each other's company and female Merlin has invaded our minds to a bit of an extraordinary extent. Hilarity doth ensue. Though episode 4, once we get to it, shall be something all in its own league (to give you but a clue, we nearly died laughing planning it). We cannot wait for the reviews and the next chapter, in our opinion is one of our favourites so far in our writings. As you'll gather we've kept the base plot line the same for each episode, but of course events will differ in order to work around Merlin's...state.**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Merlin *huddles in corner and cries***

**Chapter 2: A Valiant effort**

The sharp click of the latch was the _first_ clue for Merlin's befuddled brain that she should have been up. The second was something anyone could do without; having Gaius' grumpy face looming over you was never the most appealing of sights, especially at such an ungodly hour, even more so when one was still trying to unglue ones eyelids. The third, and perhaps most obvious clue, was the herb bag, which Gaius was brandishing about with a fervour that belied his age, and on closer, bleary inspection looked suspiciously empty.

Heaving a rather put-upon sigh, Merlin was somewhat surprised to find herself capable of casting aside her dense, goose-down quilt (a worthy investment, she believed, for a small portion of her extraordinarily well deserved reward money) and dragging her still sleepy self from its soft, soothing embrace.

Grudgingly swiping the bag from Gaius, she waited 'til after he'd departed before diving to the floor and scrounging hurriedly through the haphazard mess of clothes, books and other paraphernalia. Before long she let out a small whoop of victory, hoisting aloft her prize; the dress she wore just the day before. It was amazing how often she misplaced her clothes – especially given the pathetic number of garments she possessed. Tugging it quickly over her frame, she snatched up the herb bag and sprinted from the room, slowing just enough as she passed Gaius to hoick the proffered sandwich from his outstretched grasp.

By the time she entered the corridor housing the armoury, she gave up all pretence of haste, and instead settled into a leisurely stroll. A good thing too, as had she continued at her former pace, she would have barrelled into a somewhat lofty fellow, in pristine servant garb, struggling with the mass of battered armour balanced precariously in his thin arms. Now Merlin would have continued on her quest for Gaius (no really she would have…sort of), had she not spotted the paleness of the boy's face. But as she had spotted it, and his plight having struck a chord with her (usually non-existent) maternal instincts, she felt morally obliged to offer up some form of assistance.

Rolling her eyes at the uselessness of men, Merlin stepped forward, grabbing the top few pieces of armour before the boy could protest, "You looked like you needed some help."

The boy sputtered briefly, his eyes widening with surprise as he took in her appearance. "Oh no, no. I couldn't possibly…I - I mean…this isn't something for…" his gaze dropped to the depleted pile clutched in his arms. There was a pause in which he seemed to gather himself, straightening up to somewhere near his full height, before offering a small incline of the head and a grateful smile, "Thank you."

Turning to set off down the corridor Merlin asked amiably, "So what's all this for anyway?"

"Well I have recently taken up the duties of manservant to Prince Arthur, and this morning I have the honour of aiding him in his training." He puffed his chest out self-importantly, "I am on my way to spar with his highness near the south wall."

Merlin ran her eyes over the figure next to her, "You?" she coughed, trying to hide her amusement at the thought, "_You_ are going to _spar_ with _Prince Arthur_?"

"I know I am not much of a fighter, but it is my duty, and I believe that Prince Arthur asked me because of this. He is a strong and noble man; he would feel it wrong to force a knight to give up their training time to accompany him in his own. Particularly given that the tournament is due to commence tomorrow. So I was therefore the logical choice, and I shall do my utmost to be of any assistance to his highness."

Opening the door to the left of the armoury, Merlin dropped her burden onto the table – taking a small amount of pleasure in the clunks the pieces made as they landed (and if there were one or two more dents for it, no-one would know).

"So let me get this straight," she said, turning to watch him deposit his cargo carefully next to hers, "You have to wear this?"

"Yes."

"And hold a heavy sword and shield?"

"Indeed."

"While the prince – a trained warrior – strikes at you with all his might?"

"Quite correct. Though I'm sure he will restrain himself. After all-"

Merlin interrupted him, "And you're perfectly happy to do this?"

For the first time, the boy allowed a concerned expression to flit across his features. "Well I admit, I am a little apprehensive, but I have faith in his highness and I am certain all will go according to his plan."

Merlin just gaped at him. How anyone could have such faith in an obnoxious jerk such as Arthur was completely beyond her comprehension. Not only had the prat not reformed from his abuse of the servant staff, but here, in front of her, stood proof that he had actually succeeded in persuading one of the mindless, gullible fools that this was to be a _positive_ experience. As appalled as she was by the situation, she could do nothing against the begrudging admiration she had for his ability to manipulate those around him to his own ends. Nevertheless, something had to be done.

"What's your name?"

"George, ma'am."

She allowed a small smirk to stretch at the corner of her mouth, "I'm Merlin." She said, slinging an arm round his shoulder, "And George, I think I have an idea."

* * *

Arthur was finding George to be a bit of an odd fellow (the boy made jokes about _brass_ after all), but he had to admit seeing the figure in full armour, including helmet, to be surprising and rather more intuitive than he had thought George to be. He felt the urge to ask, but refrained as it was sure to launch the boy into a full scale explanation of his actions, and Arthur felt enough time had been wasted already.

"Ready?"

The boy barely had time to nod before Arthur struck, calling out his target as he started each manoeuvre.

"Body. Shield. Body. Shield. Head."

There was a resounding clang as George stumbled backwards from his blow, raising a hand to his helmeted head.

"Come on George, you're not even trying" he taunted, taking the opportunity as the other man regrouped to tap the youth's unguarded back with his sword. There was a strange moment where the servant's grip shifted on his sword and he gave it an experimental flourish, before turning back to face Arthur. Those short moments had practically transformed the usually timid and stiff man; his grip was sure, his stance easy and he looked prepared for the fight.

Raising an amused eyebrow, Arthur decided to put this new George through his paces. Still calling out his strokes he began again to bear down on the servant, though finding himself less able to find his marks than before. His surprise only grew when, as well as being reasonably able to defend from his light blows, the boy was even attempting to land the odd, clumsy one of his own. In fact Arthur was, by the second, becoming more and more impressed with him. He never though George had it in him – maybe he wasn't such a boot-licker after all. The blond's musing and (though Arthur would never admit it) enjoyment were cut short by a light but countable hit to his arm. That was just not acceptable, his pride as a man would not stand for that to be the end. And he daren't even think what the knights would say if they ever found out. Arthur resumed his attack with a little more vigour than perhaps he should, and quite swiftly broke through George's flawed defences. His sword collided solidly with the top of the helmet, sending the boy staggering back to collapse onto the grass, afore mentioned helmet falling off only to reveal…

"_Merlin_?!"

There was a very heavy silence, before the figure on the ground shot him an awkwardly lopsided grin, "Hello."

Nothing

"Err…I can explain?"

An eyebrow rose.

"…You know you really need to be nicer to servants…And people in general…and stop abusing your powers…and being a prat…of a prince…and stuff."

Trying desperately to hold back his exasperation at the antics of the freakish excuse for a female lying near his feet, Arthur shook his head and walked away as briskly as possible, and decided he would simply just forget the entire encounter. This plan, he was sure, would have succeeded, quite well, had it not been for Merlin and her infuriating persistence. Within several steps she had not only caught up with him, still in armour and clutching the helmet (now sporting its new dent), but had also plastered a disarmingly amiable smile across her face.

Knowing full well she had his attention, he saw a strange light enter her eye.

"You do realise you got hit by a peasant. And a girl at that."

Arthur drew to an abrupt halt. His mouth opened and closed several times as his mind scrambled for an appropriate rebuttal. However he wasn't given the time needed for such a feat before she started again.

"I suppose," she began. Planting her feet firmly she leant forward, invading his personal space, and sent him an annoyingly cheerful smirk. "I could always keep quiet about this…incident." She span and made as if to walk away from him, and the conversation, before throwing a mischievous glance over her shoulder that was worthy of even Morgana's best. "Provided of course, that you're willing to pay me a small fee."

* * *

Elsewhere in the castle, a solitary guard named Delbert was highly confused. For while patrolling he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye as he passed by the end of the passage to the laundry room. Stepping back to observe the space again, he was just in time to see a person dash from the shadows at the side of the corridor to the laundry door and slip inside. Moving into the passageway proper, he concealed himself with a clear view of the doorway from which the mysterious person was to re-emerge. Not a minute passed before the door cracked open, and Delbert watched as the always properly attired servant – George he believed his name was, crept out, clad only in his undershorts while in the process of tugging on a rather oversized tunic. Glancing both ways, the boy then swiftly disappeared back up the passage in the direction of the servants' quarters, leaving a rather befuddled guard in his wake. Shaking his head in bemusement, Delbert returned to his patrol route, muttering under his breath, "And 'ere I was thinkin' nothin' could surprise me round 'ere anymore." He paused, "Things are finally lookin' up."

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**So that's your lot for now. The next chapter should be up within the week. We're trying to wiggle our way back into writing. Please tell us your thoughts. Good, bad, we don't mind! And all reviews shall earn cookies (as we haven't given any out for ages!)**


	3. A Valiant effort Part deux

**Okay so maybe a week was being a smidge optimistic...The wiggling is a very slow way of getting back into writing and let's just say we're both easily distracted and find it hard to now co-ordinate our schedules. The original plan was to complete the next chapter before posting this one, but we were really starting to feel bad about the delay. Since last chapter's posting, I have been constantly reminded of our pressing need to update as alert after alert have been coming in from you guys following our story. Thanks for that :)**  
**But anyway on with the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: We. don't. own. Merlin. :'(**

**Chapter 3 A Valiant effort part deux**

As Arthur stood before his tent, George flitting around him affixing armour, the young prince's gaze happened upon the betting queue and a figure which had become disconcertingly familiar to him over the course of the past several days. It didn't help when the figure in question turned. Catching sight of him staring, she was quick to offer up a teasing smirk – which she emphasised by casually tossing and catching the five bronze pieces she had succeeded in blackmailing from him the previous day. A spark of irritation swiftly formed and Arthur found himself snapping unnecessarily at George's ministrations, which in his mind had gone from highly efficient to painstakingly sluggish. His sudden change of mood caused the servant to become nervous enough to actually forget to pass Arthur his sword, something Arthur would have berated him for had Merlin not left the betting queue and was heading unhurriedly for the arena. Which, unfortunately for the prince, meant she would have to pass by him on the way.

As the infuriating female drew closer, his eye alighted upon the betting slip she was brandishing around. His body was in motion before his mind even had time to voice its protestations and he found himself moving against his will to intercept her. Finding himself suddenly before her, his mind flailed to come up with a route of enquiry other than simply demanding to see the paper and the bet thereupon. He could not quell the curiosity he felt regarding whether she had placed a bet on him and to what end. Even as he settled on the excuse that it was not proper for women to be placing bets, his hand was reaching to take the paper from her. However his efforts would prove futile as, with a reproachful click of her tongue, she twitched the paper from his grasp and tucked the offending article down the folds of her bodice. There was no way he was going to attempt to retrieve it from _there_.

Especially not in public.

Or private.

Or at all.

While he tried to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks, he instead focused on Merlin who, with a raised eyebrow, looked about to speak.

"You nervous?"

Arthur felt his jaw clench "I don't get nervous."

"Really? I thought everyone got nervous."

"Will you shut up!"

Arthur noticed the lull of conversation around them had died down rather abruptly, and upon glancing to either side he realised with a jolt that all attention had shifted to the two them.

Merlin chortled softly and with a simple, "Good luck" disappeared amongst the crowd surrounding the arena entrance, leaving Arthur with no one to vent his frustration on. So it was that poor hapless George just happened to pick that moment to appear and offer the prince his previously forgotten sword. Arthur snatched it from his hands with a grumbled "about time" before striding off towards the sandy stage with as much dignity as his battered ego could muster.

* * *

As Merlin took her seat in the stalls, she once again rolled her shoulders, grateful that the pain from yesterday had faded. If she had known that sparring would be quite so painful, she would have strengthened her body and not just her fighting abilities. Maybe, she reasoned, it would be beneficial to learn some healing spells; those potions of Gaius' were completely and utterly foul.

As the procession of combatants entered she found her eyes, however unwillingly, straying to where Arthur stood. And as Uther launched off into some tedious speech about bravery and honour and whatnot, she witnessed Arthur's gaze wandering around the assembled stands until their eyes met. At that moment Merlin didn't even think a stampede of wild horses could have prevented her from pulling the most grotesque face to come to mind. It was certainly worth it, as Arthur performed a barely noticeable double-take before answering with an expression mirroring a vast myriad of emotions. She could definitely detect hints of disgust and irritation, but there was also confusion mixed in, alongside the clear, decisive message of 'We will talk later.'

Suddenly Uther's voice rose in volume "The tournament begins!", and with a start their silent communication was broken off, with Arthur trying to disguise his discomfiture by dropping his head in a bow towards his father.

Merlin forced herself to clap along with the rest of the crowd as most of the knights left the arena, leaving only Arthur, his father and a knight in brown stood on the sandy field. She found herself mildly curious as to the words the king spoke softly to his son, speculating about what could cause the conflicted expression Arthur wore once his father pulled back.

And so the fighting began. Merlin was somewhat surprised to find she swiftly became immersed in the contests – some of them (like the man wielding two sabres) were highly entertaining. And if it so happened that after each of his matches, whilst removing his helmet, Arthur's gaze sought her out in the eastern stands, it was nothing more than mere coincidence.

As the day progressed, certain knights began to stand out from the rest. Of course Arthur topped the list in terms of ability, but there was also knight Ewan in purple, Sir Eustace in green and the rather aggressive knight Valiant in yellow (who, to be perfectly honest, she found to be a bit of a creep).

* * *

The next morning saw Merlin once again heading out to the arena, with plans to meet Gwen there. However, as she passed the temporary tournament armoury, she found herself distracted by what sounded suspiciously like hissing. Confused she glanced into the room, and, seeing no-one, she ventured further with the intentions of locating the sound's source. She grew more perplexed when, having moved to the centre of the room, she still could not identify from where the noise originated. She was just making to leave, when a soft rattling hiss reverberated around the room, seeming to have issued from a shield bearing three intertwined serpents; the signature arms of none other than Sir Valiant. Kneeling before the shield, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she could have sworn that before her eyes one of the snaked proceeded to blink. Leaning closer, she started reaching out towards the painted front, when, seemingly out of nowhere, a hand slammed down onto the shield causing her to jump away from both shield and its master.

"Can I help you with something?" Valiant asked, a hint of danger at the edge of his tone.

Merlin pushed down the urge to stutter, "No. I was, simply admiring the crest upon your shield." She sent him what she hoped could pass for a charming smile, "I have always found snakes to be such intriguing creatures. And to have three upon your insignia is but surely a sign."

Valiant leant a hip against the nearby pillar, an eyebrow raised almost flirtatiously "Really? A sign of what?"

"A sign of your skill most surely. They must represent the snake's three finest traits." She paused in her speech, her mind whirling frantically, before placing one hand against his bicep and trailing a single finger lightly over the muscled planes.

"Power," she murmured, "coiled tight like a spring.

"Speed," she swept her hand sharply across his chest, her fingers coming to rest over his heart, "so that when they strike they always strike true.

"And of course," she whispered, leaning in so that her breath ghosted over his ear, "their cunning and ingenuity, which ensures their eventual triumph over any and all foes."

Holding in the urge to gag at the sickening tripe spewing from her mouth, Merlin stepped back to allow herself to look up through her lashes, blinking slowly as her eyes locked with his, "Though personally, I am most enamoured with the snakes' most subtle trait. I find they possess a unique beauty all their own. Don't you agree?"

Valiant gulped harshly, eyes wide, before opening and closing his mouth as if searching for the right words.

Merlin tilted her head slightly to the side, as if concerned with his lack of response, "Is something the matter brave Sir Knight?"

Suddenly in the distance, the king's fanfare blared out. Valiant, who had begun to lean slowly forward, reared back in surprise, twisting round like a startled deer. "Ah, I must go." He began, "I am needed at the arena." He made for the door, pivoting round to grab his sword and shield from the stands before rushing from the room. Merlin had barely begun to relax before he was back, a wild light in his eyes.

"Will I see you again?"

Unsure of what response she should give to the sudden (and highly unwelcome) question, Merlin slapped a smile on her face before looking towards him, "I'm sure you will."

And he was off again, clanking back down the corridor.

Merlin couldn't get out of the armoury fast enough. Unable to face the tournament quite so soon, she found the nearest secluded passageway and slid down a wall into a humiliated heap, while trying to blank the nauseating memories from her mind. In her self-absorbed state she didn't notice the concerned guard peering round the end of the corridor, nor that Delbert had, in the course of his patrol, witnessed both hers and the knight's departures from their encounter. Delbert heaved a quiet sigh, "This," he muttered while turning to leave the strange girl to her internal struggle, "Is exactly why I didn't wanna be on duty today."

* * *

**So there you have it. Would love to hear people's views on Merlin's armoury encounter with Valiant. It has definitely provided us with boundless measures of enjoyment. Just you try reading it out... He he. The next chapter should be up...**  
**soon?  
As always reviews are of the utmost welcome-ness (not sure if that exactly made sense, but well, meh) Cookies, cake, rewards of the virtual treat variety to those of you who do, and our thanks once again for all the support.**


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